When We Hold Each Other Up, page 10
I slid off Brother onto the stony path. I gasped as I touched the ground. I felt like the fly on the back of a horse. The city twitched around my senses, but when I remained, seemed to settle. Erhent walked barefoot, his boots tied to Brother’s saddlebags. He closed his eyes, pressing his toes into the cracks between the stones.
“See what I mean,” Chasim said. “Feels different here, right? It’s been taking us in, changing. A century of work and at least another to go.”
And beyond that, so much more—a learning center where a person taught a class on bike repair to a dozen people of all ages while a crow watched from the signpost overhead. A spicy breath followed three dirty workers as they left a cafeteria. The menu posted on the door read: “winter squash soup, baked hash, and venison.” Tomorrow, they’d be serving goat, frybread, and stuffed mushrooms.
Chasim led us through the chaos. He flipped the board under their feet and gave a strong push. Even on the busy path, she swerved into a rhythm as natural as the wind in the trees. A piece of broken cement leaned against the side of the building, and they swung into it, riding up the incline and somehow jumping off as if the piece of rubble had been placed there for him all along.
As she landed and pushed forward, the city seemed to shudder as if releasing a breath. When Chasim jumped a crack, the city breathed with them.
I pointed after Chasim. “Did you see that? That’s amazing.”
“They’re talented,” Erhent said. “And the city knows it.”
Chasim pointed out her favorite cafeteria and baker, the leather works that had extra boots if we needed new pairs. They helped Brother find a spot at one of the stables dotting the area, and we left him munching on hay with my bags thrown over the stall wall.
As Chasim described the city, its pattern seemed to fall into place. They’d been right about the forest. Just as I knew what to expect around a large oak tree, each part of the city seemed to have the usual clusters. A place to eat, to bathe, to gather, to live, to play. A third of the buildings had been stripped, their bones left to the sky for others to make new homes. Birds darted in and out of brambles or nests tucked into corners.
“This is one of my favorite spots,” Chasim said as we turned a corner past a small farm stand offering hothouse tomatoes. The street opened onto a wide space with trees, clusters of oaks and maples, gingkos mixed with hemlocks and firs. Raised garden beds held the remains of summer flowers, and an apiary huddled in a sunny spot. Benches lined the paths, and a group of kids a few years younger than me tossed a disc, their faces red and their breath streaming.
Chasim pointed to a row of buildings that faced the open space. “We’ll be in there. Take a moment to catch your breath, yeah?”
I stretched and rolled my shoulders. The city seemed quieter around the open space. “Reminds me of the orchard where I found you.”
Erhent smiled. “Let’s sit for a moment.” He walked to the winter-browned meadow and sat down. After a moment, he fell back and spread his arms.
I crouched beside him. “How’s it feel?”
“There’s so much pain, rooted deep. But the topsoil is light, joyful.” He sighed and settled into the grass.
“Don’t fall asleep on me.”
He cracked open one eye. “I’ve told you. I—”
“Don’t sleep as much as I think,” I said. “I know.”
He took a few deep breaths, then rolled to his feet. “Right. Let’s go.”
We entered the door to the low building. Inside, tables filled a wide room, with smaller rooms off to the sides. People worked at the tables, some on computers like at the Archives. Others talked over mugs. Some looked at a design plan so big it spilled over a table’s edges.
Chasim chatted with two others at a circular table. Guessing from Erhent’s flinch, at least one of them was soulkind. Chasim introduced Mei and Charlie as half of the ambassadors to Haven City, with their counterparts living in the city. Mei had the long pale hair, white skin, and angular face of the glacial Harmonizers, but her smile held a warmth. Charlie was probably my Gran’s age, with gray hair, brown skin, and dark glasses that shaded his eyes. Like the Archivists, Mei and Charlie’s partners hadn’t raised any alarm or concern about the city growing out of bounds, but on the strength of Erhent’s name, they agreed to contact them. Otherwise, all they could do was accept any people in need of a place to stay.
Charlie steepled his fingers. “We do not agree with the city’s functioning on—payment, shall we say? But from our understanding, the city remains sustainable, and all are free to come and go. If the system doesn’t match with personal beliefs, then that person can leave. We have no reason to intervene.”
Erhent sighed. “You’re wrong. If the Harmonizers don’t want you to leave, they raise the gate price to an amount of calories that would kill the person. At least, that’s what they tried to do to me, but I left by other means.”
“What do you mean, they’d raise the prices?” I asked. I knew the city required an exchange of energy—even Johnny had mentioned that at the Archives—but stories usually glossed over the specifics.
“In calories,” Erhent said. “A balancing for your entrance or exit, but they control the rates.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, hiding his hands. “A gift for the city.” Erhent stared at the table.
Mei watched him for a few seconds, then said, “I’m sure you know how soulkind live if you’ve been traveling with Erhent. It’s a give and take, like breathing. We can even filter pollutants out of a place.” She touched her chest. “That’s part of my work, here. I work in symbiosis with the park outside to remove the toxins from the ground, air, and water.” She frowned. “Long ago, there was propaganda that soulkind should feed on humanity to lower the impact on the environment. Most of us fell into the same trap as humanity at that time, that we were the top of the food chain, the chain of being, the most evolved species—however you want to think of it.” She nodded at Erhent. “It took elders like him to remind us that’s not what predators do.”
Charlie eased forward, propping his elbows on the table. “It sounds like the Harmonizers running the city are changing tactics, which aligns with this sudden expansion.”
Erhent shoved back his chair. “I—I need to go outside.” He hurried out the door, slamming it.
Mei followed and I stood, but Charlie motioned for me to sit. “Let them go, Rowan. Mei can understand his experiences better than we can.”
I walked to the wide window. Erhent knelt in a sunny spot at the park’s center. Mei crouched beside him.
Charlie joined me. “Will you return to your family now that your task is done?”
I took a deep breath. “I want to go to the city. I want to see this through and help, like you do here.” Guilt hollowed my chest. Just me talking about entering the city had upset Erhent. “I came from the city. At least, those are my earliest memories, so I want to go back. I can learn the story and share it.”
Chasim glided over, riding his board across the wooden floor. “I want to take a crew to the city. We’ve taught so many how to skate that Open Gates doesn’t need us all. Rowan can come with us.”
Charlie chuckled. “I figured you’d say that. Chasim can never turn down a new place to skate.” He gripped Chasim’s shoulder. “Just make sure you’re clear about the risks. The first skateboarders to come here suffered losses, too.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Chasim popped the board into their hands. “A hundred years ago, the first people to come to Open Gates were skateboarders. We lived here and made it a home long before people like Charlie and Mei took notice.”
Charlie huffed. “Not that long. I was born here, remember.” “Do you think the city is that dangerous?”
“A healthy city isn’t,” Charlie said, “but it sounds like this one has become something else in the name of sustainability.” He motioned me to follow and stepped to the door, pausing to take two wool blankets hung on a rack. “The hardest lesson we had to learn when working with cities, especially one like Open Gates, is that we couldn’t become complacent.” He held the door for me, and we sat on a bench outside. Chasim skated past us and around the park, taking long pushes. The city seemed to sigh and settle beneath my feet.
Charlie spread the blanket over his lap. “I don’t mean we had to be on watch, but rather we would become comfortable, think we had it all figured out. But this work has to turn like the seasons. It’s cyclical, and with the cycle comes change. The moment we tried to lock things into place, thought we had it all figured out, it cracked apart.”
Across from us, Erhent and Mei had shifted so they sat cross-legged, facing each other. Erhent leaned back, his hands pressed into the soil, like always. “Is that what you think is wrong with Haven City?”
He shrugged. “I don’t propose to know, just giving you my experience.”
In the distance, Mei stood and offered Erhent a hand. They walked toward us, still talking. Erhent even laughed.
“Just know, Rowan,” Charlie said, “this work is difficult and dangerous. It’s good work worth doing, but it’s a devotion.”
“I want to learn how to do it.”
Charlie patted my knee. “Good. We need more folks like you and your friend. But don’t be surprised if it’s all different than you expect.”
Erhent and I kept exploring. He seemed lighter as we entered a new part of the city. A similar layout meant we knew where to stop for food or drinks. I visited each tea cart to gulp down a steaming cup as the air chilled, but I wanted to see it all. As the sky darkened, lights attached to buildings or wooden poles winked on. The streets quieted, but through the large windows, light illuminated gathering spaces, cafeterias, workshops, a theatre. We paused at a window to listen to a song about two lovers. A person eased open the door and asked if we wanted to come in, but we shook our heads.
A rattling crack down the street drew us from the window. Under one of the larger lights at an intersection, a person a few years younger than me rode a board like Chasim’s. They circled a small pond with a raised edge and would somehow make the board jump onto the edge, slide along it, then jump off again.
I caught my breath. Beneath the cone of light, the space felt like a stage. The kid could ride the board like a living thing, snaking across the road, gaining speed, riding up a piece of cement leaned against the wall like a ramp. They’d catch the tip of their board on the raised edge of the pond or a bench and hold for a breath before flicking the board back to the ground.
I placed my hand against a building. As before, the city seemed to catch its breath with the kid or maybe the kid skated with the city—or both.
“Do you feel it?” I whispered even though we were far enough away the kid couldn’t hear us. “The city likes this.”
“Of course it does,” Erhent said. “The city and that child are making something beautiful together.”
The kid started at the far side of the square, took a running leap on the board, and shoved toward the pond. With so much speed, the kid made it halfway around the lip before levering off. They whooped and stepped off the board, bracing their hands on their knees.
I ran over. “That was amazing!” “Right?!” The kid grinned, all teeth. “The farthest I’ve ever gotten! Some of the others can get all the way around the lip, but I’m not strong enough for that yet.” The kid stomped on the board’s tail and flipped it into their hands. “Do you want to try?” The kid held it out.
I nodded. “Are you sure?”
The kid examined the ground, then placed the board so the back wheels rested in a crack. “C’mere, this will help.” They showed me where to put my feet. “You can hold my hand if you need to. I’m Altan, but you can call me Alt, they-them.” “I’m Rowan.”
Alt offered their hand as I placed my left foot over the front wheels and my right foot over the back wheels. The board wobbled like I was trying to balance on a fallen tree, but I gripped Alt’s hand. After stepping on and off a few times, Alt showed me how to push.
Erhent sat cross-legged on the pond’s edge. He grinned, a real, happy smile I’d only seen once or twice.
After pushing around the square a dozen times, I stepped off the board. My legs quivered. “That’s amazing! Thanks for showing me, Alt.”
They popped the board into their hands. “C’mon, and I’ll introduce you to the others. We can get you a board to use.”
I glanced at Erhent, and he nodded. Alt ran down the street, and I followed. The street opened onto another park, but this one had a big, wooden structure at the edge, like two ramps pushed together. Light from a meeting space made patches on the street. Alt banged into the door and shouldered it open, more warm light spilling out.
“Rowan needs a board!” they hollered.
I skidded in after them. About twenty people packed the space, all talking, eating, drinking, and building. Boards and pieces of boards were strewn over worktables. Others packed travel bags with provisions, clothes, and tools.
“Building two now!” someone shouted, and Alt pulled me over to a table.
As Alt’s friend Josh taught me how to assemble my trucks, he explained the skateboarders had been asked to go skate Haven City. Skating the city helped map it but also assess the hurt. The joy skating brought had made several breakthroughs at Open Gates, so they’d become the first deployed at new locations. And they were proud to be the vanguard. But more than proud—excited. A new place to skate meant new adventures, new tricks, new stories.
They swept me into their preparations, only pausing to show me something about the board they gifted me or to get me different shoes or knee pads or a paintbrush so I could decorate a helmet.
At some point, Erhent tapped me on the shoulder and said he’d be back in the morning. I stayed with the skateboarders, sleeping in a part of the old prison. Some of the walls had been knocked out, and everything had been painted in bright colors and decorated with murals or quotes. They had guest beds, but Alt asked if I wanted to sleep in their room, so they dragged in another cot.
Alt talked about how excited they were to skate Haven City until they fell asleep mid-thought. A sliver of moonlight shone through a small window. I tracked it across the narrow room. I wanted to go to Haven City, too, but I worried Erhent was wavering. Maybe if I went with the skaters, he’d feel better about it. He wouldn’t stop me if he chose not to go, but I didn’t want him to follow me to a place he feared. These skaters weren’t afraid—or if they were, they hid it well—but if that place scared Erhent, then it was dangerous.
As soon as the dawn grayed the room, I took the board and crept out. Erhent would be waiting.
He sat on a bench outside, keeping an egg sandwich warm under his coat. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I took a big bite. I tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again: “Where did you go last night?”
“With some of the other soulkind to watch the moon. It was nearly full.” He set his foot on my board and rolled it smoothly. “You’ll be going to the city with them.”
I nodded as I swallowed the last of the sandwich. “I want to.”
“Do you still want me to come?”
“Only if you want to. You don’t have to protect me this time.”
He laughed, but it sounded more like dry leaves rattling. “Haven City isn’t like this place, Rowan. It will hurt you, and I won’t be able to stop it, not all of it.”
Chapter Eight
This part is familiar to most of you, but it’s worth retelling. It’s been ten years, after all.
I was fed on for the first time in Haven City. As I stumbled away from the gate guard, clutching the palm-sized metal square that would be loaded with points for the energy that had been taken, Erhent caught me up. He held me tight, and even though I was taller than him, I buried my face in his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Rowan. I’m so sorry.”
Erhent had warned me and described what it would feel like. I’d given blood before, given my sweat to work—but this, not this. Every muscle in my body locking into place, the feeling of my breath spooling out of me, the burning in my chest, the instant headache. The guard had to hold me upright even though the last thing I wanted was him touching me.
Erhent guided me to a bench along the city wall. Other humans sagged there, but none had someone to comfort them. He eased me onto the bench, and the shooting pains in my legs turned to a dull ache.
He kept an arm tight around my shoulders. “Will you let me help?”
I nodded, and he turned to face me. He gripped my right hand in his and cupped my face in his left. He rested his forehead against mine. “Close your eyes. Deep breath.”
As we exhaled, it felt like a cool breeze promising rain rippled over me on a hot, dry day; like peeling off my boots and washing my feet in a mountain stream; like the sunrise waking me after a peaceful night.
I opened my eyes as Erhent raised his head.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. The pain and discomfort had faded to soreness, a dull throb. “Thank you.” I squeezed his hand.
Erhent stood and dusted off his coat. “I’ll be right back.” He went to the others resting along the bench. Some accepted his help, but others just recoiled. When he finished, he gripped my shoulder, a tremor in his arm.
